


Bad Decisions

by karuvapatta



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Parenting, Boss/Employee Relationship, Drunk Sex, F/M, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2019-11-18 04:27:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18113288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karuvapatta/pseuds/karuvapatta
Summary: Gabriel and Nathalie drank too much and then slept together. But they are sensible people, so it most definitely will not affect their working relationship in any way, shape, or form. Or so they hope.





	1. Chapter 1

She woke up with a headache.

The three empty wine bottles on the table seemed like the most obvious culprit. Nathalie groaned and rolled over, burying her face in the cooler side of the pillow. Her throat was painfully dry but she didn’t have the strength to get up quite yet.

Gradually, it came to her that she was naked. Odd. Nathalie didn’t sleep naked. And the soulless hotel room wasn’t _her_ soulless hotel room. And someone else was there, in the en suite, brushing their teeth by the sound of it.

Horrified, Nathalie sat up and searched for her glasses. This couldn’t have happened. Nathalie wasn’t _that_ stupid, was she? No. No, no, no---

Gabriel walked into the room, proving her wrong.

He was already dressed. His hair, damp from the shower, fell in disarray around his head. He had shaved and washed and smelled pleasantly of cologne, and not like Nathalie herself – of sweat, wine, and bad decisions.

“Sir,” she said, hiking the duvet up, until it covered not only her chest but also her neckline.

Gabriel scowled. “I don’t think this is the best time for formalities, Nathalie.”

Her heart sank. Perhaps it hadn’t been that bad – but, no, the sight of her bra hanging from Gabriel’s chair was damning enough.

“Oh, _merde_.”

Gabriel, who had been busy buttoning up his shirt and smoothing every crease with fastidious precision, cast her an unreadable look.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Terribly,” she replied. “I think the wine was too much for me.”

“You mean that there was too much wine.”

She glared at him, annoyed beyond belief. Gabriel selected a brush and began to work on his hair. Given the, ah, _situation,_ he was remarkably chirpy. But she supposed he handled alcohol better than she did.

Water. She needed water. And toothpaste. And then more water.

“Sir,” she said stiffly. “Do you remember what happened last night?”

That made him pause, the faintest blush staining his cheeks.

“My memories are a bit hazy, but overall – yes. Yes, I do.”

Nathalie sighed. “I don’t. Not at all. I assume we—”

She couldn’t finish the sentence. Besides, she knew the answer to that particular question. She didn’t even need to look at Gabriel’s panicked expression; she didn’t _want_ to look at the man.

“Could you hand me a robe, sir?” she asked stiffly. The thought of being naked in front of him, even for the short time it would take her to reach the bathroom door, was unbearable.

He did as she asked and then turned around, offering her some privacy while she untangled herself from the sheets. She couldn’t fasten the belt quickly enough, couldn’t get her limbs to stop shaking, couldn’t force herself to ignore the pleasant soreness of her body and the fact that she very badly needed a shower.

Gross, she felt gross. She locked the bathroom door behind her and clutched the sink, her head spinning and her heart hammering. For the longest time, she couldn’t even catch her breath.

What were they thinking? Why did she come here, late at night, instead of staying in her own room? Why did they order that first bottle of wine, not to mention the second and the third? They had been working, yes, this was Gabriel’s first business trip in almost two years, there was a lot to do and not enough time in the day to do it all—but what would happen _now_? How do they go back from this?

The belt was too tight. Nathalie couldn’t _breathe_. She disrobed, but now she could see the faint bruises on her neck and shoulder, and further down, on her hips—all the places she didn’t get to remember Gabriel’s mouth being.

She turned on the faucet and splashed ice-cold water on her face. It was enough of a shock to calm her down, if only for a moment. The water kept running, drowning out the sounds of Gabriel moving around the small room. Nathalie cupped her hands and then drank, greedily, and kept drinking until her throat went numb and her teeth started to ache from the cold.

Toothpaste. Shower.

There was a clean toothbrush provided by the hotel. She cleaned her teeth twice and then stepped into the glass-encased shower stall, turning random handles and then cursing, loudly, when she realized that she forgot to take off her glasses.

It was shaping up to be a horrible day.

The long, _long_ shower made her feel a bit more human. She rubbed shampoo and soap on her body until the chemical scent soaked deep into her pores. Then she dried herself with a clean tower, her skin irritated and red and _still_ – despite Nathalie’s efforts – carrying the marks Gabriel left there.

“Nathalie?” He knocked on the bathroom door. “Would you like me to hand you your clothes?”

She swallowed and waited a moment until she could be sure her voice would come out steady and unaffected. “Yes, please.”

The clothes were far from fresh, but she couldn’t parade down the hotel corridor in nothing but a bathrobe. Disheartened, Nathalie pulled on her blouse and pants, and then braided her damp hair.

“I’m going to go and change, sir,” she said once she walked out of the bathroom. “Your first meeting of the day starts at ten. I’ll meet you in the lobby at nine thirty.”

Gabriel avoided her gaze, his mouth set tight and his hands clasped behind his back. It wasn’t anger, not exactly, but an obvious display of discomfort.

“Very well,” he said.

Nathalie fled.

***

They were good at hiding things, Gabriel and herself. Their little indiscretion would be quickly forgotten, everything would go back to normal, and no one else would ever find out.

“Has something happened between you and Dad?” Adrien asked one day over dinner.

Nathalie froze.

“What do you mean?” she asked after an incriminatingly lengthy pause.

“I don’t know exactly, but you two are acting very strange.”

Adrien blinked his innocent green eyes and then went back to eating. He had been picking at the food unenthusiastically as usual, stuck all alone at the giant table.

The worst part was, Gabriel did try to rectify that at one point. After giving up the Butterfly Miraculous he made an effort to spend more time with his son – for a while. But then he relapsed, oscillating between long depressive episodes and sudden bouts of hedonistic mania that had Nathalie picking him up from the strangest places at the oddest times. He mellowed out after two months of this, but they were back to square one as far as Adrien was concerned.

No, Nathalie wouldn’t miss Gabriel’s parties, the long periods where he wouldn’t eat or talk or even get out of bed, or the string of regrettable one-night-stands that now included Nathalie herself. It was probably selfish of her to expect Gabriel to get over his grief so quickly with no Hawk Moth side project to keep himself focused, but she couldn’t quite help it.

“What is it, Nathalie?” Adrien asked.

“What do you mean?” Nathalie repeated.

Adrien put down his fork and was now staring at her with obvious concern.

“You didn’t answer my question and then you stood there in silence for five minutes,” he said slowly. “I mean, that’s not unusual. But I think something’s bothering you. Maybe I could help?”

Nathalie blinked.

“You are very kind, but I don’t require your help.”

“Oh.”

Deflated, he turned back to his meal with even less enthusiasm than earlier. Nathalie watched it with a sinking feeling. The boy deserved more warmth than she was capable of giving, but really, that was the absolute last thing she ever wanted to discuss with him.

“Is Dad going to be home today?” Adrien asked, this time not bothering to look at her.

“I don’t believe so, no,” Nathalie said. He was at the office and then meeting with Adele or Mikhaïl or Yvette or whomever. She supposed it was better than staring at Emilie’s portrait all day. She _supposed_.

“In that case, can I go see Nino?”

The alternative was confining him to his room for the entire evening. And he had things to do – Gabriel made sure there was no shortage of stuff to occupy Adrien’s time – but Nathalie stared down at the tablet she was holding and sighed.

“Only if you’ve finished your homework,” she said. “And I will have to pick you up at eight, maybe eight thirty.”

More puzzled than happy, Adrien gave her another long look.

“So it’s bad, huh?” he asked. Then he explained: “Normally you would ask Dad first.”

Well. True. But there was no reasoning with Gabriel lately, and no respite from his erratic, unpredictable behaviour.

“I will sort this out with your father,” Nathalie said firmly. _If he deigns to talk to me_. “Let me know when you’re ready to go.”

Adrien beamed at her. It was impossible not to notice how much of Emilie was in that smile.

“Thanks, Nathalie!”

***

Gabriel did not, in fact, want to talk to her.

Nathalie picked him up from the apartment in the city the next morning, after driving Adrien to school. None of Gabriel’s friends or temporary lovers were welcome in his house, so he got this place instead. She couldn’t exactly complain. It was probably best that Adrien didn’t see his father drunk.

Not drunk but definitely hung over, Gabriel took the passenger seat and nodded at Nathalie before pointedly turning his gaze away. She sighed but said nothing, all the way to the manor.

Something had to change.

Nathalie prepared a cup of coffee and brought it to Gabriel’s office, where he sequestered himself immediately upon arrival. He was sketching with sharp, angry movements of his hand, a frown marring his forehead.

“Sir.”

Gabriel tossed her one careless look and went back to work.

“You can leave the coffee on my desk.”

“I was hoping to talk to you,” Nathalie said carefully.

Another look.

“Is it work related?”

“No. It’s personal.”

“Then it can wait until later.”

Nathalie set down the plate and the small cup. After a brief pause to steel her nerves, she walked over to Gabriel and stood there in pointed silence until he couldn’t ignore her any longer.

“Sir—”

“What is it that you want, Nathalie?” Gabriel asked sharply. “An apology? A raise?”

Nathalie felt her cheeks burning. “A _raise_? Why would I want a raise for _that_?”

“I don’t know,” Gabriel pushed away his stylus and pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes falling shut. “I thought that perhaps—financial compensation—”

“Don’t you _dare_.”

Something in Nathalie’s tone of voice finally made him look up.

“We did a stupid thing, but unless it’s going to be a part of my job from now on—” Nathalie began.

“No, Nathalie,” Gabriel’s eyes widened. He looked at her helplessly for a moment, then added: “You were drunk.”

“So were you.”

“Yes, but I knew what I was doing. You did not.”

Didn’t she? Past that initial moment of panic and confusion Nathalie did have flashes of what had happened the night before. The hazy memories filled her head with a red hot mist of arousal and shame. She wasn’t one hundred per cent clear on the details, but she remembered enough of what she had said to him to be afraid of asking him to fill in the rest.

Gabriel must have taken her silence the wrong way.

“I will understand if you want to quit,” he said softly.

“I don’t want to quit,” Nathalie said.

“I don’t want you to, either,” Gabriel said. “And I don’t want this… incident to ruin things between us.”

Nathalie said nothing for a long moment, conflicting emotions running through her mind. But it was better that way, wasn’t it? It had to be. At least herself and Gabriel were on the same page.

“Yes,” she said. “That would be a shame.”


	2. Chapter 2

Everything was going well between Nathalie and Gabriel. Which is to say, they resumed their professional relationship as if nothing had ever happened. So when she was asked to schedule a business trip to London for the two of them, Nathalie didn’t think twice of it.

Well. She did. But she pushed those thoughts away and focused on her job while Gabriel sat in meeting after meeting.

Shame they were here only two days, really. If their stay was longer, Nathalie could get a few hours off to go to the theatre or do some sightseeing. As it were, she only managed the occasional glance from the rain-splattered windows of the cab that deposited them by the hotel. Gabriel nodded at her and disappeared in his suite; Nathalie breathed a little easier and walked to her own room.

The new shoes, gorgeous though they were, were agonizing after too many hours. She took them off with a sigh of relief and examined the blisters forming on her heels and toes. A nice long bath, that was what she needed.

She washed off her makeup and removed each and every hairpin holding her bun in place. Her hair rolled down her back in long, wavy strands, the red streak more noticeable now that it was framing her face. It was perhaps time to get it redone; the colour was sliding too low for her liking.

There was enough water in the tub by now. Nathalie undressed and dipped her toes in to check the temperature. Then she climbed in, relishing every inch of her bare skin disappearing beneath the water line. She preferred showers, she really did, but she could feel the tension and the weariness of the day seeping out of her body.

Nathalie leaned her head back and closed her eyes. _Yes. Perfect._

A sudden sharp knock on the door startled her out of pleasant daydreams. Nathalie flinched, splashing the water around her. Perhaps she had imagined it? But, no, after a few moments the knock repeated, louder and more insistent.

Nathalie bit back a curse. She climbed out of the bathtub, towelled off most of the water as quickly as she could, and then wrapped a bathrobe tight around herself.

“Yes?” she asked coldly, wrenching the door open.

It was Gabriel. Of course it was.

His eyes widened – stupid, really, he had already seen her naked – no, she couldn’t afford to think about that right now.

“Is there anything you require, sir?”

He was staring at her wordlessly. The collar of his shirt was unbuttoned and the fabric slightly crumpled, but the expression on his face was the worst of it. Gabriel Agreste didn’t do sheepish or uncertain; it had never suited him. But that was how he looked right now, lost and vulnerable. The sight unsettled her more than she dared to admit.

“Come in,” she said.

His left hand was curled around the neck of a whiskey bottle. He set it down on a table, the glass clinking loudly.

“We are _not_ drinking,” Nathalie said. “Absolutely not.”

“That’s not why I’m here,” Gabriel said, voice hoarse. His slightly unfocused gaze travelled from the dripping wet tips of her hair, and down, all the way to her bare feet. “I interrupted you, didn’t I?”

“You have,” Nathalie said. “Can I help you with something?”

Gabriel shook his head. Yet he remained where he was, silent, staring off into space. Did he even realize he had come here, to Nathalie’s hotel room, in the middle of the night? Did he care? Or was he drunk enough to tune out the outside world, _again_?

“Sir?”

Nathalie gently directed him to an armchair and pushed on his shoulders until he sat down.

“Drink this,” she said, handing him a bottle of water from the minifridge. She hid the whiskey and went back to the bathroom, to wrap a towel around her hair and put on some actual clothes. The bathrobe left her feeling horribly exposed.

When she came back, Gabriel was hunched over, elbows propped up on his knees, face buried in his hands. He was very still, for which Nathalie was grateful. She wasn’t sure she could handle Gabriel Agreste crying. She wasn’t sure how to handle him _now_.

She knelt on the floor and put a hand on his shoulder. Gabriel shuddered. His face was pale, drawn with anguish. Nathalie was struck with a sudden panicked thought that perhaps something horrible had happened; Adrien, oh God, _Adrien_ —

“What is it?” she asked in shaky voice.

“I’m sorry,” Gabriel said. “I shouldn’t have come here. I just—I couldn’t be alone.”

“Yes, but _why_? Is Adrien okay?”

“What?” Gabriel stared at her. “No, he’s fine—I spoke to him an hour ago.”

“Good,” Nathalie said. She would text him herself just to be sure, but it could wait for a moment. Right now she had a feeling that Gabriel would fall to pieces if she loosened her hold on him. “How drunk are you?”

“Not at all,” Gabriel said, with a touch of regret that she interpreted as _not as much as he wanted to be_. “That therapist you made me see suggested I should seek out human companionship when I’m feeling like this. Not the nearest bottle.”

“I didn’t make you see anyone,” Nathalie said. “I merely suggested it could be helpful.”

“It was. Thank you.”

“But you stopped seeing her?”

“Yes,” Gabriel said. “After three sessions. She was asking too many personal questions.”

Nathalie sighed. “How are you feeling, sir?”

Instead of replying, Gabriel brought up his hand to her face and brushed away her hair in an oddly detached gesture. Still, the brush of his knuckles against her skin sent a shiver down Nathalie’s spine.

“Is this what happened that time we slept together?” Nathalie asked, surprised by how even her voice sounded.

“No,” Gabriel said after a painful pause. “We were—we were drinking. Chatting about nonsense. It was—it was nice. For the very first time, I felt—” he shook his head again, as if that could chase away grim thoughts, “Not happy, perhaps, but it made me believe that one day I could be.”

Nathalie felt a weight in her throat, clamping down on her windpipe. She moved closer, incapable of speech, and tried to ignore how readily Gabriel’s arms wrapped around her waist, how quickly he buried his face in her neck, how his hot, damp breath felt like a kiss on the skin below her jaw.

“You can be,” she told him gently. “You will be. It takes time, but you will be.”

A shudder run through his shoulders; he held her even tighter.

“That’s the problem, Nathalie,” he whispered. “If it stops hurting, it will be as if what I had with Emilie didn’t even matter.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. She didn’t even know how to react. So she held him, and pressed a kiss to his temple, and said nothing at all.

***

And so it happened that Nathalie Sancoeur woke up in bed with her boss. Again. At least this time she had fallen asleep fully clothed and sober.

There was this brief moment of disorientation as her mind readjusted to being awake. The warm, heavy weight on her midsection slowly became Gabriel’s arm; the steady rhythm of his breathing turned out to be separate from her own. He was lying on a side, facing her, an arm and leg slung casually over her body. It took her some time to realize that she shouldn’t be finding this position comfortable.

Five, maybe ten minutes later, Nathalie began to wonder why her alarm hadn’t sounded yet. She woke up at 6 am almost every day without its help, but it was a signal that she had to stop daydreaming and get about her day. This morning, however, there was nothing but the ambience of rain beating against the window pane and Gabriel’s breathing. Peculiar. Most peculiar.

She extracted herself from his hold as gently as possible and grabbed her phone from the bedside table. She had to hold it close to her face to bring the numbers into focus. 5 am? Why? Why was she awake already?

Then it dawned on her: time zones. London. Business trip. It explained the rain, the humid chill in the air, and the presence of Gabriel.

Right.

She could get another hour of sleep. She _should_. But by this point she was hyperaware of her boss sleeping next to her. Curling back into his embrace felt like betrayal of his trust, since he had made it pretty clear that he wasn’t interested in pursuing a relationship with her.

So Nathalie did what she did best: worked.

She was reviewing notes for today’s meeting when she caught herself checking on Gabriel. It was an instinct more than conscious thought, but there he was: hadn’t stirred an inch but his grey-blue eyes were open, watching her.

“It’s still early, sir,” Nathalie said.

“I know,” Gabriel replied.

His eyes closed briefly. Then he shifted, lying flat on his back, and stared at the ceiling.

“How are you feeling?” she asked after a pause.

“As well as can be expected under the circumstances.”

The text scrolled before her eyes but she wasn’t taking in any information. With a sigh, Nathalie locked the tablet and then set it aside on the small glass table. Coffee. She would be herself after she had a cup of coffee. But, for now, something possessed her to leave the armchair and sit back on the bed, next to where Gabriel was lying.

“Perhaps you’d like to see the therapist again, sir?” she said. “If the last one didn’t suit you, I could arrange for a replacement.”

He looked odd without his glasses, but not Hawkmoth-odd. More vulnerable, more human; he had to squint to see her properly, and Nathalie fought the urge to lean in closer to spare him the trouble.

“I don’t have the luxury of being honest about my actions, Nathalie.” Gabriel said. “If they were to learn about Hawk Moth…”

“You could omit that part. Quite easily.”

The frown on his forehead deepened. Gabriel turned from her, the grey light of dawn washing out the contours of his face, giving them a dreamlike appearance. Not that he ever appeared in Nathalie’s dreams, of course.

He wasn’t answering, so Nathalie pressed on in a quiet voice: “You need help,” she said. “And I don’t know how to help you. Perhaps a qualified professional…”

“I tried that,” he said sharply. “It did not work. Will you drop the subject or would you rather keep bringing up all of my failures?”

Her hand was hovering above Gabriel’s shoulder. She realized that now and so she took it away, her fingers curling, her nails biting into the flesh of her palm.

“With all due respect, sir. You have a son. You owe it to him to keep trying.”

“I know I have a son. I don’t need you to remind me of that.”

“It sometimes feels like you do,” Nathalie said.

Gabriel stared at her with cold fury in his eyes. There was a boundary there she had carelessly overstepped. It wasn’t the same man who had come to her seeking comfort in the middle of the night; no, even lying shirtless in her bed Gabriel had power over her that he would never let her forget about. She wasn’t sure he even knew how.

But this wasn’t a conversation between a boss and an employee. She needed him to see that. So she did something she wouldn’t ever do under usual circumstances: she put her hand on his face, her thumb lightly stroking his cheekbone. Until the alarm rung, she could do this.

Under her touch, Gabriel’s expression softened.

“What do you want me to say to him?” he asked. “I failed to bring his mother back. I failed to be there for him like she wanted me to. That’s all I can think about whenever I face him…”

His eyes drifted shut. His next exhale was deep, forced, as if he was fighting to keep his breath steady. It brushed the skin of Nathalie’s palm.

“But he doesn’t know that,” Nathalie said. “He misses you, and he doesn’t understand why you’re so cold to him. Sir. You are all he has left—”

“I know,” Gabriel said. “I know. Shut up.”

There was no urgency behind the order but Nathalie obeyed it nonetheless. She wasn’t quite sure she could keep talking.

When he next looked at her, something had shifted in Gabriel’s gaze. She didn’t quite understand what it was, not until she felt his hand curl around her waist, pulling her down with a gentle but irresistible force. She could argue, refuse, or ignore him; she did none of these things. Instead, she leaned down and brushed his lips with her own.

“This is a mistake,” Nathalie murmured.

He caught her lips in a kiss; a deep, lingering one, that echoed through every inch of her body. His hand remained on her hip, holding her in place, the other one helping to balance her weight on top of him.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” Gabriel said. It was anyone’s guess who he was trying to convince.

“It doesn’t,” Nathalie said. She felt breathless, lightheaded, her mouth already seeking Gabriel’s.

Kissing someone should not be this good; a logical part of her brain knew it wouldn’t be for long. But that part had ruled her entire life. It could take a backseat, at least until the alarm sounded.

Come morning, they would be sensible again.

***

She could almost believe that. _Almost_.

The day after they got back from London, Nathalie showed up at the mansion as usual. She set down her handbag and coat and climbed the massive staircase to knock at Adrien’s door. When he didn’t reply, she knocked again. Had he overslept? It wasn’t like him at all.

She let herself in.

No, the boy wasn’t asleep. He was fully dressed but still lying on the couch in his room, tossing a plastic white ball with one hand. A notebook was lying open on his chest but Adrien’s green eyes were fixed somewhere on the ceiling.

Nathalie frowned. “Adrien, you’re going to be late.”

“So what?” he asked glumly. “I might as well not go.”

After a pause, Nathalie asked: “Your biology test is today, isn’t it?”

Adrien lay there in sullen silence.

“I know you studied. You’re going to do fine.”

“I won’t!” Adrien said. He covered his face with his hands, the ball rolling away on the floor. “It’s just—I studied. I really did. But I think I’m going to fail, Nathalie.”

“That won’t happen,” Nathalie said. “If you were having trouble with the material, why didn’t you say something earlier?”

Adrien cast her a long, miserable look, but otherwise did not reply. Of course. He was too proud to admit he was having trouble, too used to breezing through his classes with little effort. Anxious, perhaps, of what his father would say if he were to fail. Besides, they were in London… but he could have told her, couldn’t he? They spoke on the phone for a short while, Nathalie inquiring about his day, classes, well-being.

But she had been so cold to him. She had to be. That was her bloody _job_.

Against her better judgement, Nathalie tried to soften her tone.

“Adrien, please. You have to eat. I can quiz you over breakfast if you’d like.”

“What’s the point of breakfast,” Adrien murmured. “And what’s the point of learning about _moss_? I don’t care about moss! Or its life cycle!”

“I have no idea, but unfortunately it’s part of your curriculum,” Nathalie said, picking up his discarded notebook on the relevant page. “We can start with the sporophyte phase.”

Adrien followed her, answering questions with only the occasional stumble. Those small mistakes, however, derailed his train of thoughts all too easily; it was hard for him to concentrate afterwards. Naturally, being the son of Gabriel Agreste, Adrien had no concept of “good enough”.

Nathalie opened the dining room door for him, and then froze with her hand on the door knob. His mind absorbed with decomposers’ place in the food chain, Adrien took much longer to notice that something odd had happened this morning.

Something very odd indeed.

It was Gabriel. Sipping an espresso with a disapproving expression, right there at the table, as if it was something he did every morning.

“You’re late,” he said coolly.

Adrien approached his seat with slow, careful steps, as if he were afraid of spooking a wild animal.

“Dad?”

“Yes?”

“What are you doing here?”

Gabriel shot Nathalie a guilty, panicked look, and then composed himself.

“I’m having breakfast,” he said, pointing at the plate in front of him. “I mean—we. We are having breakfast.” He paused. “Is this acceptable?”

Adrien sank into his seat, still staring at his father with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah. Sure.”

Gabriel picked up a knife and fork and then waited for Adrien to do the same. Adrien, however, was still too stunned to move.

“Adrien.”

The boy flinched.

“Right. Right.”

It was a stiff, awkward affair. They ate in silence, alternating between staring down at their plates and pleading looks directed at Nathalie that she had no choice but to ignore. Of course, the one day Gabriel decided to have breakfast with his son, Adrien was too stressed out to make conversation.

But it was a step in the right direction. Maybe it would get them somewhere.


	3. Chapter 3

A secret affair with her boss turned out to be a lot more manageable than Nathalie had expected. So long as she made peace with the fact that nothing would come of it and that he couldn’t stop thinking about his wife even when they were together, she could be perfectly content.

She told herself that, each and every time she rolled away from him, breathless and sweaty and utterly spent. The moments after were awkward and unpleasant, but in Nathalie’s experience that was just how sex worked. The magic wasn’t meant to last.

During work hours, however, her mind was firmly on the job. She entered Gabriel’s office to deliver printouts of her conversation with their Milan branch – the interpersonal conflicts between the managers were getting out of hand, probably necessitating another visit in the near future – when she noticed something odd on his computer screen.

It was a dress – not unusual – but the model wearing it was… well. Nathalie didn’t consider herself particularly vain, even though she had high standards to meet as the unofficial face of the brand since Gabriel’s isolation; but the woman in the picture, as carelessly as she was drawn, resembled her. A little.

Gabriel was distracted with the emails. Nathalie, entranced, scrolled through his latest project. It was the beginning of a new collection, elegant and business-like, with a few outlandish pieces. And it was modelled on her. Indubitably.

After a few long minutes, Gabriel raised his head. He said something and then, upon receiving no answer, he walked over to where Nathalie was standing. His expression shifted when he noticed what she was looking at.

“Ah. The new collection,” he said neutrally.

“It’s exquisite,” Nathalie said, adopting his tone.

He was, if anything, irritated by her intrusion. She recognized the signs in the frown between his eyebrows and the downturn of his mouth.

Were they going to ignore this? It was the sensible thing to do. Their current arrangement required a lot of unsaid words to be made to work. This was just one more thing for Nathalie to mull over in the silence of her apartment, long after Gabriel was gone.

“This one might be in bad taste though,” she said, pointing to what was a variation on Hawk Moth’s outfit. The corner of her lip twitched.

“It’s a work in progress,” Gabriel said. After a long pause, he added, “It’s easier to draw with a specific person in mind. Don’t read too much into this.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” Nathalie said stiffly.

Of course. She had been foolish. And now they were both uncomfortable.

Gabriel adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat.

“I’ll get back to you on the Milan issue,” he said. Then, in the same neutral tone, he added: “Are you free tonight?”

With a sigh, Nathalie consulted her calendar and then pondered the state of her apartment and the amount of time it would take to make it presentable.

“You can come over at nine,” she said. “Is this acceptable?”

After a tense silence, Gabriel’s expression eased a little. One might even call it a smile – a little sheepish, a little uncertain, but a smile nonetheless. That worried her more than the clothes did if she was to be honest with herself.

But she couldn’t say no to this man.

“Yes,” he said.

Nathalie couldn’t help glancing at Emilie’s portrait right then, and then averted her eyes quickly before Gabriel realized. No, she couldn’t afford to think about her right now. As tragic as it was – and Nathalie missed the woman dearly – Emilie was _gone_. Gabriel finally made peace with the fact, even if he was unwilling to move on. And Nathalie wasn’t going to ask him to.

This was fine. Their arrangement wasn’t perfect, but it worked.

She flinched when she felt Gabriel’s hand on her cheek and then tried to compose herself again as his smile faltered.

“Nathalie,” he said. “I—”

Unsure what else to say, Gabriel gave her a long, searching look. Before he saw something in her face that he wasn’t meant to see, Nathalie climbed on her toes to peck his cheek.

“Don’t be late,” she murmured.

The smile he gave her was inexplicably fond. Instead of a reply, he bent down and kissed her on the mouth, completely messing up her lipstick in the process—

“Hey, dad, may I—um—”

Nathalie and Gabriel jolted away.

It was far, far too late. Adrien was leaning in through the half-open office door, his green eyes comically wide.

“Adrien,” said Gabriel, his voice so aggressively nonchalant it made him sound slightly maniacal, “What is it?”

Adrien stared between the two of them, trying to make sense of the situation. Eventually he just gave up.

“You know what?” he said. “I’ll come back later.”

Just as quickly as he appeared, he was gone.

***

“So, um,” Adrien began. Then, when he noticed Nathalie’s expression, his face fell and he turned back to his food.

Nathalie felt a surge of pity for the boy. Even more than that, however, she felt her own discomfort. She liked her walls; right now it was as if they had been stripped bare, exposing all of her secrets. It was not a good feeling.

“Do hurry up, Adrien, your photoshoot begins in two hours and you have to finish all of your homework beforehand,” she said, her words clipped and her tone uninviting.

It had the desired effect. Even more than that, she could see how Adrien retreated further into himself, forcing down every emotion to match her own distant professionalism.

“Yes, Nathalie,” he said.

His tone was chilling. Nobody should speak like that, Nathalie thought. And yet she had, just now, only to have her cold indifference thrown back at her.

For the rest of the day she avoided both Agrestes. Luckily the mansion was large enough to keep three people from interacting with one another. She left the building with a sigh of relief and commuted back home, more than ready to kick back and relax for the handful of hours before going to bed.

Except. She couldn’t. She still had the date with Gabriel. Or did she? Nathalie drummed her nails on the coffee table, next to her phone. She had half a mind to tell him not to come, but managed to convince herself he surely wouldn’t.

Then, at nine o’clock sharp, there was a knock at Nathalie’s door.

Her stupid, stupid heart gave a lurch every time she saw him in her space. Now even more – he hesitated once she opened the door, his brow furrowed, and took a long moment before speaking.

“Perhaps this isn’t the wisest course of action,” he said.

“It isn’t. We’ve had that conversation before.”

“That we did.” He paused. “May I come in?”

“Yes, of course.”

Nathalie stepped aside to let him in. He shrugged off his coat and hanged it by the door with the sort of absent-minded familiarity that left her a little speechless. It wasn’t that she didn’t _want_ him to feel comfortable in her home, it was just—unexpected. And a little worrying.

“Have you spoken to Adrien?” she asked.

Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose, expression pained.

“I did not,” he said. “Did you expect me to?”

His tone was terse and the question obviously rhetorical. Nathalie left it unanswered.

“Would you like something to drink?” she asked instead.

He nodded. Off she went, to the comforting silence of her small kitchen. When she returned with a glass of water, she found him snooping around her closet.

At her pointedly raised eyebrows, Gabriel didn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed.

“I realized I only ever see you in suits,” he said. “What do you wear when you’re not at work?”

“Pyjamas, mostly,” Nathalie said drily.

Gabriel paused. He had been inspecting one of the few dresses she owned, his fingers caressing the fabric to test the quality of it. Now, finally, he looked guilty.

“I didn’t mean to pry,” he said.

“What did you mean, then?”

He didn’t answer.

“Is this about the collection that has nothing to do with me?” she asked. Her lip twitched when a flush crept up Gabriel’s neck.

Oh, she had considered dressing up for him. The dress was just one of the options, sleek and black, with a slit running up to her thigh. Then she considered something more risqué, like expensive lingerie or a corset. _Then_ she thought of greeting him in something domestic and comfortable, sweatpants and a loose T-shirt, if only to see his reaction. But in the end it all felt disingenuous in a way, like she was trying to make the situation into something it could never be. So she kept her slacks and a blouse, which was what she might as well wear to work.

Yes. Work Nathalie. This was the Nathalie they were both most comfortable with.

Gabriel’s fingers squeezed her own when she took his hand. She had to stand on tiptoe to kiss him, her toes sinking into the carpet that lined the floor of her bedroom. The difference in height had been less noticeable earlier, back in his office, when she was still wearing heels.

His lips were warm and soft, wonderfully so; as he drew her closer, she felt more of that same warmth seeping into her skin. It left her lightheaded, and more than a little afraid of the feeling.

But he was here. With her. That was all that mattered for now.


	4. Chapter 4

Things were tense between Gabriel and Adrien. Sadly, it wasn’t all that unusual. But never before had Nathalie felt personally responsible for the situation.

She drove Adrien to school and his fencing classes afterwards, exchanging no more than ten words overall. The boy was gloomy and subdued, staring out of the window with his eyebrows pinched each time she glanced at him via the rear-view mirror. The guilt gnawed at her; her relationship with Adrien had never been particularly warm, but this—this was—this _hurt_.

She parked the car in front of the mansion and took a few shaky, steadying breaths. Something had to be done.

After dinner, Adrien had some time to himself. Usually he played video games or watched Japanese cartoons that Nathalie hadn’t been able to make any sense of. Such was the case now – he was on the couch, disinterestedly smashing buttons on the controller while images flashed on the television screen.

“Oh,” Adrien said when she knocked at his door and let herself in. “I thought you went home already.”

“I was leaving,” Nathalie said. She hesitated. “But I thought that—perhaps—you wanted to talk.”

Adrien paused the game and stared at her. Nathalie could feel the blush creeping up her cheeks. This was a terrible, horrible idea.

“About you and dad?” Adrien clarified. When Nathalie nodded, he gave an inelegant snort. “That’s okay, I asked him already. He told me it’s none of my business.”

Oh, _why_. Why did she decide to have this conversation. Why did she start sleeping with her boss. Why did she take the job in the first place?

“I mean,” Nathalie said. The she sighed, deeply. “I just wanted to ask how you feel about this whole—situation?”

Was this the right way to phrase this question? She didn’t know. But Adrien never asked her to clarify. No, he went silent for a moment, looking at his desktop with a solemn expression.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly. “Mum’s been gone for over three years now. I suppose – if you and dad are in love—I suppose it’s good that he’s happy again, right?”

Nathalie bit her lip.

“We are not in love,” she said. “And I honestly wish I could tell you he is happy. He isn’t.”

Adrien was looking at her, wordlessly, his game long forgotten. Whether she said too much or too little, Nathalie felt like there was still more.

“Listen,” she said quietly. “He loved your mother more than anything. He loves her still. What we have right now is—it isn’t serious. It doesn’t really matter.”

“But—” Adrien said. He thought about for a long moment. “So _why_ did you two…?”

He made vague gestures with his hands that Nathalie was glad not to know the meaning of. She hoped he was referring to the kissing. Good lord, let it be the kissing.

But what was it, really? She had always admired Gabriel’s talent and the hard work he put into running the company. Then, as she realized the depth of his devotion to Emilie, and the lengths he was willing to go to for the sake of the people he loved, the admiration turned into something—different. More personal. Entirely inappropriate, of course. But she had wanted to see him succeed, even at the cost of her own health. She had wanted to believe in love like that.

“It’s hard to say, really,” she said. “I suppose—I suppose we were both bored and lonely. That’s probably it.”

Adrien was still looking at her with a worried expression.

“So are you going to quit your job?” he asked. “I mean—this isn’t exactly _right_ , is it? He is your boss—”

Oh god, _why were they talking about this._ Adrien was a child! Not _her_ child, of course, she could never be so lucky, but a child in her care. That was terribly inappropriate.

“True, HR wouldn’t be pleased if this got out,” Nathalie said, and didn’t add that half the company thought she had been sleeping with Gabriel for years. “But I think we have worked out a way to keep our professional and personal relationships separate. So no, I’m not quitting any time soon.” She took in a deeper breath. “I think I would miss you, Adrien. I know you may not feel the same way, but I have known you for a long time, and—well,” she paused, searching for the right words. “Well, I’d be worried about you. That’s all.”

They were words, but they weren’t the right ones. It shouldn’t be so hard to find those, but it _was_. Because there was so much Adrien couldn’t know, about Hawk Moth and Mayura, and Emilie, and Gabriel’s horrible coping mechanism, and Nathalie’s own messed up moral principles. The more she thought about this, the more convinced she was that the boy deserved better adults in his life.

It wasn’t his fault that he got stuck with Gabriel and Nathalie.

***

“What on earth have you told Adrien?” Gabriel demanded the very next morning, when she brought him his coffee.

Nathalie very nearly spilled the hot liquid, but she was a professional. She managed to set it down on the table and then straightened her back, looking him square in the eyes.

“He already found out about us, and I felt that—”

“My _son_ doesn’t need to know who I’m sleeping with,” Gabriel seethed.

“But he _knows_ ,” Nathalie said, helplessly. “And I didn’t… look, I didn’t mean to upset either of you, but we’ve kept so much from him already—”

Gabriel turned away from her, his fists clenched behind his back as he stared up at Emilie’s portrait. When he spoke next, his voice was deceptively quiet.

“And what made you think this, of all things, is where we should start being honest?”

She had seen him angry before, of course; many times. But this was something new. And, oddly, she had the feeling that it wasn’t herself he was angry at. There was something else going through his mind that Nathalie wasn’t privy to.

“We never should have stopped,” she said, quiet enough so that he could ignore her if he so wished.

She approached him slowly, carefully, and then placed a hand on his shoulder. Gabriel’s muscles were nearly vibrating with tension, under tremendous effort to keep him as he wished to be: tall and strong and in control. But she could see the cracks in his façade, and couldn’t quite stop herself from coming closer, to let him know she could catch him if he fell.

“He cares about you and wants you to be happy,” she said softly. “You can’t fault him for wanting to know you.”

After a while, he asked in a hollow tone of voice: “And what is it that you want, Nathalie?”

Her grip on his shoulder tightened briefly, then loosened. She stepped back.

“Right now I want to get back to work,” she said. “And so should you.”

***

Gabriel came over that evening still visibly upset, but – surprise, surprise – unwilling to talk about it. Nathalie drew him to her bedroom by the lapels of his coat and didn’t say anything until much later, when they were entwined together and drenched in sweat.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Her heart rate had slowed down to normal and her breath was coming in an even puffs. And it felt good to lie with her head on Gabriel’s bare shoulder, with his hand stroking her back.

“What for?” Gabriel asked.

“Overstepping my boundaries,” she said. “No—not _that_ ,” she added, because he was staring at her with a smirk and she could feel herself blushing furiously. “Yesterday. I shouldn’t have spoken to Adrien without your permission.”

Without her glasses and in the dim half-light, she couldn’t see his face in detail. That was probably a good thing. Besides, she was much more comfortable staying where she was, with her arm wrapped around Gabriel’s middle and her leg slung casually over his thighs.

After a long pause, Gabriel sighed.

“I can’t stop you from talking to my son,” he said, a trace of guilt in his voice. “We both know I don’t do nearly enough of that myself.”

“You don’t,” Nathalie agreed woozily, snuggling closer to him.

His chest expanded on another deep sigh.

“Adrien is concerned about you,” he said. “He thinks I’m not treating you right.”

Just like that, Nathalie had been startled awake.

“What?” she blinked. “He must have misread the situation. I assure you I told him nothing of the sort.”

Gabriel stared up at the ceiling.

“Aren’t I?” he asked grimly. “This can’t be what you want out of life, Nathalie.”

She was speechless right then and there. What did he even _mean_?

It was true that Nathalie’s life had taken a rapid turn downwards. She had never signed up to be a role model for a troubled child; she had never meant to be Hawk Moth’s lackey or Gabriel’s emotional crutch, either, but then things _happened_. She couldn’t leave the two Agrestes alone while there was still something she could do for them.

Or maybe he meant it in the more prosaic sense. Maybe it was because he slept most nights at her apartment, but she didn’t even know what the inside of his bedroom looked like. Maybe it was about Emilie. Maybe he thought it was pathetic that she never managed to be first in anyone’s eyes.

Fuck him, honestly.

“You think I should be just as miserable as you are,” she said coolly. “Well, I’m not. And I’m not going to be.”

“But—”

She placed a finger at his lips, shushing him immediately. It felt good to be able to do that to Gabriel Agreste.

“No, shut up,” she said. “I never expected you to forget her. And if there was something we could _actually_ do—” her voice faltered. She cleared her throat. “But, no, if you must know: this isn’t what I wanted out of life. But it is what I got, and I would be much happier if only people stopped telling me I shouldn’t be.”

Looking at his face was unbearable. She rested her forehead briefly on his chest, and forced a smile onto her lips.

“I never meant—” he began to protest.

“I know you didn’t,” Nathalie said tiredly. “Stop worrying about it, Gabriel. Let’s just go to sleep.”


	5. Chapter 5

She got used to waking up next to Gabriel. A dangerous idea maybe, but it was hard not to; he was there in her bed, snoring softly, sleep-warm and quiet and content. It was rare to see him so peaceful.

She caught herself waiting for those moments; looking forward to them, even, as she brushed her teeth and readied herself for bed, while over in her bedroom Gabriel was listening to a podcast and sketching absent-mindedly. There was a frown on his forehead, and as she sat down on the bed, she couldn’t help scooting closer, to steal a peek over his shoulder and find out what got him so upset.

The dress was lovely, if a bit too daring for her tastes. She watched him add details to the long, flowing lines of it, the jewellery and the shoes complimenting it perfectly.

“Fashion week?” she asked.

“Fashion week.” Gabriel sighed. “I don’t mind the main events, it’s all the bloody _partying_ that comes afterwards…”

“Well, you have to go,” Nathalie told him curtly. “Make an appearance, at least. Exchange pleasantries. I’m organizing my notes on the guests, I will draft you some nice things to say.”

Gabriel glanced at her above the thick rim of his glasses, something like a smile playing at his lips.

“That will lessen the headache,” he said. Then added: “I can’t go alone, unfortunately.”

Despite herself, despite _everything_ , Nathalie felt a flutter in her stomach. She was glad he wasn’t looking at her, and managed only a small, “Oh?”

Gabriel fiddled with the design, seemingly lost in thought.

“I was thinking of asking Yvette as my plus one,” he said.

In an entirely different voice, Nathalie said: “Oh.”

 _Yvette_. A model. In her twenties. Quite popular now. Spent a couple of (apparently mutually enjoyable) nights in Gabriel’s company, before the guilt and depression kicked in. Nathalie _drove her home_ , personally, from Gabriel’s apartment in the city—

And now he was staring at her, with his grey-blue eyes, and asked “You don’t mind, do you?”; as if the question was only just now occurring to him.

Nathalie swallowed.

In truth—in truth, what right did she have to be upset by this? He wasn’t her husband, or boyfriend. Barely a lover. Nathalie had, personally, assured him that she didn’t want anything more out of their arrangement. And she had _meant it_. She _did_.

“No,” she said.

In an uncharacteristic moment of empathy—no, wait, she was being unkind; Gabriel was plenty empathetic. It had once been his superpower.

“It’s only for the sake of appearances,” he said.

Yes. A hot supermodel. No one will question a rich, middle-aged widower dating a supermodel. And it would be better than showing up alone to those events, and much, much better than inviting his assistant. Might as well ask Siri to be his plus one.

“It does make sense,” she said, and tried to convince herself that it did.

***

Unbelievable. For the first time ever, Nathalie Sancoeur was going to be _late_.

She sat down on the bed and tried to catch her breath. No, don’t think about the three dresses you had selected for tonight, or the closet full of shoes to pick from, or the fact that you haven’t done your hair or make-up yet and—

She fell backwards and groaned. Then, after a full minute of internal debate, she forced herself to get up.

Right. A dress. The simple black one, the _fancy_ black one, or the shimmering purple one? She had meant to go with simple – Gabriel had suggested that particular one – but now that she had tried it on, it didn’t seem like enough. She would blend in with the crowd of people, and—well. That wasn’t a bad thing, was it? She was there for business reasons.

The dress fitted her well. She put it on and examined herself in the full-length mirror, searching for imperfections. Yes, she looked good, but was it good enough? Good enough to be seen with Gabriel Agreste—

Once that thought entered her head, it wouldn’t leave. Never mind how badly she wanted it to, that was just _it_. Was Gabriel ashamed to be seen with her? Yvette was prettier and a decade younger; wasn’t like there was anything Nathalie could do about _that_.

“You’re pathetic,” she told her own reflection. “And a coward. You deserve to have your heart broken.”

She kicked off the dress angrily and put on the flashier, purple one. She didn’t need to follow Gabriel’s stupid fashion advice. And that way she could surprise him—no, that was a ridiculous line of thought. He would not be struck dumb at the sight of her, and would not fester in violent jealousy while Nathalie danced and flirted and had fun without him before his very eyes. That was stupid, wasn’t it?

Well, it was nice to imagine.

***

Gabriel didn’t pause, or stare, or stammer, or blush. He barely looked up when Nathalie got into the car, scrolling through (her) notes on his tablet. Yvette, on the other hand, gave her a friendly smile.

“Hi, Nathalie!” Adrien said happily. He was seating next to Marinette and holding her hand. The girl looked just about ready to swoon. “You’re—”

“I’m not late,” Nathalie said, a touch too sharply. She felt an immediate jab of guilt when Adrien’s expression faltered. “I—apologize. Ran into a minor issue. We will make it if we leave now,” she added.

“Let’s go, then,” Gabriel nodded at the Gorilla.

Nathalie clutched her purse between her hands and stared straight ahead. She had a lot of bare skin on display – a lot more than she was comfortable showing, were she to be completely honest. Her neck, shoulders, arms, a good portion of her back… and the cleavage. Surely it was too much? Instead of looking beautiful and suave, she would end up awkward, overdressed and ridiculous.

So much for her plans to enjoy the evening. She never managed to shake off the grim thoughts, in between sneaking looks at Yvette and indulging in too much wine. The only upside was that Marinette looked as lost as Nathalie felt, and seemed grateful when Nathalie and Adrien took turns in explaining who was who around the crowded banquet hall, and why they were important. The girl was smart and brilliantly creative; Nathalie supposed this was part of the reason Adrien liked her so much. She found herself warming up to her as the evening wore on.

Other than that, however, it was awful. Bright, and crowded, and the music was too loud. Nathalie sipped her Chardonnay and counted down the time until it would be socially acceptable to leave.

“Hey,” Adrien said, dropping down in the chair next to her. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Nathalie replied automatically.

Gabriel was dancing with Yvette. Of bloody course he was.

Adrien followed his father with his eyes, an unhappy frown on his face.

“So you guys really—” he began.

“No,” Nathalie said. “I guess not.”

It was good wine, pleasant and delicate, with a fruity note. She downed her glass and poured herself another.

Without Marinette there, Adrien was able to give her his full attention. Nathalie wished that hadn’t been the case. His green eyes were earnest and sad, and she wasn’t in the mood for sympathy. But—he cared about her, didn’t he? She was just his father’s secretary, and he still cared.

She offered Adrien a weak smile. Out of the corner of her eye, however, she saw Yvette lean forward and whisper something in Gabriel’s ear.

“I wish it could work out between you two,” Adrien said suddenly. He was, perhaps, a little drunk – Gabriel permitted him a glass of wine, and the boy (young man, really, she would have to learn to stop seeing him as a child eventually) was unaccustomed to it. She hoped he was, that is. “I know it’s none of my business, but—”

“He’s your father,” Nathalie said. “It’s natural. I think.”

Yvette pulled away. Whatever it was she said had affected Gabriel in some way, but then they spun around and Nathalie couldn’t see his face anymore. Only his tall, lean figure, the broad shoulders, the spike of his hair.

She swirled the wine in her glass and took a long sip. Her head was already starting to ache – an excess of alcohol, or the noise… tomorrow she would feel better. There would be events, shows, business to attend to. Nathalie would be busy, but she _liked_ being busy. It was the only time she felt like herself.

Marinette came back from the bathroom, navigating her way between the dancing couples with some difficulty. She nearly tripped over the long hem of her dress; Adrien rushed to her side to steady her, ever the gentleman. The two then stood frozen, gazing at each other with open adoration.

Right. Definitely not children anymore.

Despite everything, Nathalie smiled. It would be lovely if things worked out for Adrien, even if they never worked out for Gabriel or herself.

The clock struck midnight. Surely _now_ she could leave? The Gorilla would come and pick up the Agreste men and their dates when called. She felt a little apprehensive about leaving them here, but she’s been sitting at that damn table for several long hours, the very picture of misery, and now longed for the safety of her own apartment.

“Nathalie!” Yvette sat down in a chair beside her, her face flushed from the dancing. “Is there any wine left?”

Nathalie frowned. Was the—was she suggesting that Nathalie drank it all? The nerve!

“Yes, of course,” she said, somewhat coolly. Then she bit her lip. Tonight wasn’t Yvette’s fault, and she wasn’t being fair. “Here. Let me.”

She refilled the woman’s glass and tried to force a smile onto her numb lips. It was just the two of them, unfortunately. Where the hell was Gabriel?

The answer came when she felt the brush of his fingers over her shoulder-blade – purely incidental, as he put his hand on the back of her chair.

“Nathalie,” he said. “Will you dance with me?”

He was stiff, uncomfortable. Nathalie toyed with the idea of refusing him.

“I’m an abysmal dancer,” she said.

“No one here can actually _dance_ , Nathalie,” Yvette said lightly. “Have you seen them?”

“You dance really well,” Nathalie said, and then bit her tongue. That implied she had been watching them, didn’t it? Pathetic. _Pathetic_.

Gabriel was still standing there, by her chair, with one hand extended in invitation. She could read him well enough at this point to know that he really didn’t want to be doing this, but felt that he should. And he could take his—his magnanimity, and his bloody _manners_ , and his _pity_ , and shove them—well. Anyway.

She placed her fingers in the palm of his hand. His own fingers curled warmly around her own, in a gesture that was at once too much and not enough. But she followed him, because it was Gabriel, and there were worse, much worse things she had done for Gabriel in the past.

There were, thankfully, enough couples still left on the dancefloor that the two of them wouldn’t stick out. And, as if on cue, the orchestra slowed down, the music taking on a familiar rhythm of a waltz, even if she didn’t recognize that particular song. Gabriel probably did. She had half a mind to ask, but her throat had seized up when they stood facing each other, only a short distance apart.

Their hands laced together. She stepped closer, cursing the floor-length dress she had decided to wear; and as she placed her hand on his shoulder, she felt the palm of his hand rest on the bare skin of her back, and good lord, why had she chosen _this_ dress of all the dresses? He had touched her in more intimate places, true, but had never so much as held her hand in public.

Gabriel’s eyes closed briefly. Then he took in a strangled breath, improved his posture, and began to dance.

He was a decent dancer; Nathalie was a good follower. It was easy enough to let herself be led, get lost in the steps – _one_ , two, three, _one,_ two, three – and mind only her footwork, so that she wouldn’t trip and land face-first on her boss’s chest.

“This isn’t what I expected you to wear,” he said in a low voice.

Nathalie, who had been avoiding looking at his face until now, narrowed her eyes.

“I like this dress,” she said. “I don’t often have the chance to wear it.”

His lips twitched in a half-smile. “Yet you always insist on suits for any formal occasion,” he said.

“I just follow the dress code you’ve established,” she said. Without thinking, she added: “Sir.”

She dropped her gaze to his bowtie and focused on her breathing, particularly the and long, even exhales. If she didn’t, it felt like she might begin to cry, and wouldn’t that be the perfect way to end this horrible evening?

“Nathalie—”

“I’m sorry,” she said in a rush. “I meant what I said. It’s _fine_. I’ll get over it, I just need more time to—process.” Her voice trembled, ever so slightly. She forced another deep, calming breath.

“ _Nathalie._ ”

“I’m—” she chocked on another apology.

It was barely even dancing, what they were doing. Gabriel pulled her closer, so that she could hide her face from possible onlookers, and she was immensely grateful for that.

“You’re not taking very good care of your date,” she said quietly.

“She was the one who suggested I talk to you,” he replied, voice tense. “I never meant to hurt you, Nathalie.”

 _I know_ , she wanted to say, and _You haven’t_ , but she couldn’t force the words past the tightness of her throat.

The dancing couples around them were slowing as the last notes of the song died out. Nathalie pulled herself together and took a hasty step back, away from Gabriel’s embrace. He released her hand with some reluctance.

“It’s late,” she said instead. “I will drive Adrien and Marinette home.”

After a pause, Gabriel nodded.

***

They hadn’t spoken much during the Fashion Week. Rather: they talked a lot, but their conversations were strictly business. Much easier that way.

It was the weekend afterwards that Nathalie finally got some time to herself. She was lounging on her couch in a T-shirt and sweatpants, grateful not to be judged on her appearance for a change. A movie was playing on TV while she browsed the Internet on her tablet. Saturday and Sunday stretched out before her, slow and quiet and lazy.

Her doorbell rang. Nathalie swallowed a curse. Who, in this day and age, shows up unannounced? She had her phone, didn’t she? Couldn’t they call first?

Gabriel. Of course.

Nathalie opened the door and invited him in. He seemed sober, thankfully, but he was obviously nervous. And he wore a suit and tie. On a Saturday morning, with nothing scheduled for the day! Most peculiar.

“I, uh,” Gabriel said. His eyes closed briefly and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “We. We need to talk.”

“Today?” Nathalie asked. “I was—oh, never mind. Sit down, please.”

He was staring at her. Suddenly she regretted not dressing up. But he was right. They really did need to talk.

Nathalie sat on the other end of the couch, keeping her back straight and her hands folded in her lap, and tried to find the right words. She came up short. Maybe Gabriel would fare better – but she doubted it, judging by the lengthy silence that followed, filled with nervous glances and aborted gestures.

“I have something for you,” Gabriel said finally. He hesitated before reaching a hand into the pocket of his suit in order to retrieve what turned out to be a small, black box.

Nathalie accepted it, heart sinking. Inside was a ring: a narrow band of silver decorated with an amethyst. Quite pretty, really. She appreciated the simplicity.

“Is this another Miraculous?” she asked.

“What?” Gabriel stared at her, flabbergasted.

“Which one is it?” Nathalie asked.

Was that their future, then? Another long line of disastrous attempts at achieving the impossible?

“This isn’t a Miraculous, Nathalie!” Gabriel said. Wincing, he added: “Although I can see why you might have thought so. No,” and his voice softened, “It’s an engagement ring.”

“Oh,” Nathalie said blankly. She stared at the box and tried to make sense of the situation. “Why are you giving me— _”_

She stared, and stared. Gabriel Agreste got up from the couch and lowered himself to one knee in front of her.

“I’m not doing this right, am I?” he asked bashfully.

Nathalie’s mind was completely blank. Gabriel’s grey-blue eyes were soft, vulnerable; his smile hopeful.

“Will you marry me?” he asked, taking her hand in his. Nathalie let him, because she was still incapable of movement, or rational thought.

“ _What?_ ” she said, in a high-pitched voice that sounded alien to her own ears. “I’m—I’m sorry, but this is rather—sudden, isn’t it?”

Still clutching the box, she covered her face with the other hand so that she wouldn’t have to look at him.

“I don’t understand you, Gabriel Agreste,” she said numbly. “ _Why are you doing this?_ ”

She half-expected him to stand up; he hadn’t moved. He was stubborn beyond all reason, and this couldn’t be comfortable for him, and yet _there he was_ , waiting for her answer. And she felt something snap inside of her, words pouring out before she could stop them.

“I told you, I never wanted more than what we had,” she said. “It wasn’t perfect, but I never needed it to be, and—you don’t _owe_ me anything, Gabriel, you don’t need to do this—”

“I owe you my life,” he said, so soft and earnest that she felt her heart skip a beat. “I owe you for everything you’ve done for my son and me. And it’s not a debt I will ever be able to repay.” He took the box from her unresisting hands and picked up the ring. “This isn’t about that.”

“Tell me, then,” she said. “And sit down, please, I can’t—”

If asked, she wouldn’t be able to explain what bothered her the most about his position. Thankfully, he did not ask; no, Gabriel slowly got up and then took a seat nearby. He started fiddling with the ring as he gathered his thoughts.

“Emilie knew about the curse,” he said. “She knew what was happening to her long before I ever did. I’m afraid I can be rather unobservant when it comes to people I love,” his voice took on a bitter note. “ _Especially_ when it comes to the people I love. I’m sure you’ve realized.” Nathalie stared at him, and didn’t deny. “She made me promise,” Gabriel continued. “That I wouldn’t do anything stupid. That I would take care of Adrien. That I wouldn’t die along with her.” He buried his face in his hands, shoulders trembling. “I failed her. I failed her on every account. I’ve done horrifying things. I almost lost my son. It’s a damn miracle he still wants to talk to me.”

Hesitant, she placed a hand on his shoulders, but said nothing in response. She didn’t think there was anything that could be said.

“I love you, Nathalie,” Gabriel said suddenly, with startling clearance. “I’ve loved you for a long time. And I didn’t want to accept that because it felt like a betrayal of her memory.”

Nathalie sat there in stunned silence. Then, quietly: “I love you too.”

“I know that,” Gabriel looked at her, utterly miserable. “And I used you, haven’t I? And I could carry on pretending that what we have doesn’t matter, _shouldn’t matter_ , but this isn’t right, and never has been. You deserve better than that.” He reached for her hand with something akin to reverence. “So let me try again. Let me do this right. Please, Nathalie,” he brought her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

Nathalie’s eyes prickled with tears. She willed herself not to cry. _Do this right_ , he had said; after everything they had been doing _wrong_. Between Emilie, and him being her boss, and Adrien, and their villainous past – _right_ didn’t seem possible at all.

He was still waiting for her answer, his lips pressing feather-light kisses to her fingers, his eyes searching hers, for once in his life vulnerable and unguarded.

“Buy me dinner first?” she asked weakly.

It wasn’t a no; she needed him to understand that. But it wasn’t a yes, either, because Nathalie didn’t know if she would ever be ready for a yes.

“I mean it,” she said. “We haven’t ever been on a proper _date_. Maybe we should start there. Discuss some practical concerns – talk to Adrien—” her words trailed off. She touched his jaw instead, his cheekbone, as if to make sure he wasn’t a figment of her imagination. But he was there, warm, and real; still expectant.

“Where do you want to go?” Gabriel asked softly.

Nathalie smiled. She took the ring from his hand and twirled it between her fingers, fighting with the urge to put it on, just to see what it might look like.

This was ridiculous. She was a practical woman. And of all the stupid, terrible decisions she had made in recent years, this had to be the very worst.

And yet she couldn’t stop smiling.

“Anywhere,” she said. “I’d go anywhere with you, Gabriel. Just let me change first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge, _huge_ thanks to everyone who read this fic, enjoyed it, and took the time to let me know! It really means a lot and you guys are awesome ♥


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